Fireworks
by Denny Crane
Summary: This is slash. Go away if you don't like it. Denny Crane. Actual summary is Does Denny mean what he says? The answer gives us a 4th of July spectacle on the balcony at Crane, Poole and Schmidt.


Title: Fireworks

Author: Mr. Denny Crane's Ghostwriter  
Summary: Does Denny mean what he says? The answer gives us a 4th of July spectacle on the balcony at Crane, Poole and Schmidt.

Notes: In celebration of the 4th of July holiday – Boston Legal-style, of course. Many thanks to my Wonder Beta, Bridget.

Acknowledgments: Denny Crane.

**WARNING: THIS CONTAINS SLASH, WHICH IS MALE/MALE SEXUAL INTERACTION. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED. I DON'T WANT TO HEAR YOUR CLOSE-MINDED FLAMES IF YOU DON'T LIKE IT. DENNY CRANE.**

* * *

"Denny, if the view of Boston's fireworks spectacle is so great from your balcony, why are we the only ones here to see it?"

"Simple. I've banned anyone else from sharing the view."

"You mean you watch it alone here every year?"

"Until this year," Denny replied, a twinkle in his eye as he raised his glass. "Happy Fourth."

Alan raised his glass in acknowledgement and slugged back the rest of his scotch. "I think I'm flattered."

"You _think_?"

"I can't be absolutely _certain_ I'm flattered until I'm sure there isn't an ulterior motive here."

Denny's eyes widened in mock surprise. "Ulterior motive? Denny Crane doesn't _need_ an ulterior motive, son."

"No. I would presume not."

Several moments passed in silence as cigar smoke filled the rather stagnant air around them. The sounds of a band beginning to play music some distance from them wafted to their ears.

"Three Cheers for the Red, White and Blue, if my patriotic musical repertoire is accurate."

"Right you are, Alan. They play the same songs every year." Denny sighed. "It's actually quite boring, come to think of it."

"How can fireworks be boring? I've always found them thrilling, beautiful and sometimes even stimulating. There's something phallic about their shape and the fact that they explode."

"I did, too, when I was your age. But I've spent years watching them from this balcony. Year after year after year. The music doesn't change, the style and color and type doesn't change. Nothing ever changes."

"One thing _has_ changed, Denny."

Denny looked at him inquiringly. "What's that?"

"This year, _I'm_ here." Alan smirked as he settled back into his chair. "Perhaps I can make things more…interesting."

"How do you propose to do that? Did you bring a couple of Roman candles?"

"No," Alan said with all the coolness of a cucumber. "Just one."

"You brought a Roman candle?"

"I did."

"Well, come on, man, light it! This place could use some spicing up!"

"My thought exactly, Denny," Alan replied, coming to his feet. "But there's a catch. This particular candle doesn't go off without some heat application."

"Well, you have a lighter, so use it."

"I'm afraid I left my lighter inside."

Denny frowned. "Are you being deliberately obtuse? Is there some reason you want _me_ to light it? What's it going to do, explode in my face?"

"That _is_ a possibility, but then it's _always_ a possibility."

Denny came to his feet just as the first firework snaked into the sky. It exploded in a brilliant green display, lighting up the sky. He watched as each spark fizzled and then turned to face Alan. "Let me see this Roman candle of yours."

"Are you sure you want to see it?"

"If I say no…?"

Alan shrugged and sat back down in his chair. "Then this year's Fourth of July will be as monotonous as all your previous ones."

Denny studied him for a handful of seconds as more fireworks went off. Their faces flashed in blues, yellows, whites, reds…a rotation of color that lent an ethereal atmosphere to the rather noisy yet somehow still quiet balcony.

"I take it your need for change is what led you to invite me here tonight," Alan said between blasts.

"You're right, it did," Denny replied. "I'm just not sure quite how _much_ change I'm prepared for."

Alan finally looked at him. "To echo something a great man once said to me, Denny…I think it's time we take our relationship to the next level."

A smile toyed with the corners of Denny's mouth. "Are you a homosexual, Alan?"

"Not exclusively," Alan replied, forcing himself to hide a smile. "You?"

"You've been dying to get an answer to that question since we met. Haven't you?"

Alan rose to his feet. "Not _quite_ since we met, Denny, but from the moment you made that statement to me, yes."

Denny turned, toying with his cigar as he walked to the far end of the balcony. Fireworks continued exploding overhead, three sonic boomers nearly deafening them. But it was as though they weren't even there.

"I would never admit to being homosexual even if I was. Image to maintain and all, you understand."

"If that statement had been made by anyone else, I would measure him as a judgmental, arrogant, self-righteous, delusional sonofabitch." Alan noted Denny's wide-eyed expression of surprise. "Coming from you, however, I know that not to be the case." Alan moved across the balcony like a cat. "Tell me, Denny, have you ever made love to anyone but a woman?"

"No," Denny answered. "And that's the truth."

Alan nodded. "All right. Have you ever had _sex_ with another man?"

Denny's response was muffled by the echo of a firework exploding above them. However, Alan read the "Yes." on his lips.

"I knew you weren't completely heterosexual, Denny."

"What do you have, gaydar?"

Alan laughed out loud. "Hardly. After all, I'm _not_ gay. However, I must say I'm remarkably good at reading people."

By this time Alan was standing barely six inches from Denny. "All right, Alan, I'll bite. How do you read me?"

Alan looked thoughtfully at him, then moved around him with his hands clasped behind his back, pacing the great Denny Crane as he stood there with cigar in hand.

"Well, for months I've been reading a rather strong affection between us."

"That's not reading me, I've _told_ you that much."

"Yes, that's true. However, usually you don't say what you mean."

Denny's eyes narrowed. "I don't."

"No. You tend to say the exact _opposite_ of what you mean."

"I don't understand."

"Quite simple, Denny," Alan replied, pacing away from him and leaning on the balcony wall. "What is the phrase you keep repeating to me?"

"You mean, I'm not having sex with you?"

"Yes. That and its variation, I'm not sleeping with you." Alan turned and leaned against the wall as there was a lull in the fireworks display. "I submit to you, counselor, that you mean the exact opposite."

"You're out of your mind."

"Then why do you continue using those phrases even when we're not talking about sex?" Denny opened his mouth as if to respond, but snapped it shut again, his features turning hard. Alan took a step forward and crossed his arms over his chest. "I think when you say you're not having sex with me what you're really doing is entreating me _to_ have sex with you." Denny's face seemed to close down even more. "I further believe that when you say you're not going to sleep with me, what you're really doing is asking me when we're finally going to sleep together."

"You're about two words from going over the side of that wall," Denny growled.

Alan shrugged. "I'm only giving you my opinion, Denny. No need to get your fur up in a ruff."

A large, brilliant firework exploded above, sparkling in a multitude of colors, each spark crackling as it fell through the atmosphere. Alan was once more leaning against the wall, his face turned up to the sky in boyish glee as his attention turned from his coworker to the magic and beauty of something humans had been enjoying for over 2,000 years thanks to a Chinese cook. Chinese. His stomach rumbled. He could use a good beef and broccoli right now.

Denny soon appeared at Alan's side, face turned similarly to the night sky, fireworks mirrored in his hazel eyes. "Am I that transparent?"

Alan turned to look at him. "Only to me."

Denny's cigar had been abandoned. Between blasts the band struck up _You're a Grand Old Fag…_er_…Flag_ and Alan continued to watch him. "So am I to assume that your entreaties are to be taken seriously?"

"You…_know_ what happens when you assume, Alan."

"All right. Then I'll simply die never knowing."

"I'll die before _you_ will."

"You so sure of that?"

Denny turned and looked at him just as Alan hopped up onto the balcony ledge, sitting there with his legs hanging inside the balcony wall. "What the hell are you doing?"

"Testing my theory."

"That's a pretty dangerous test."

"Yes, but if I'm right, you'll agree to anything to keep me from falling off."

"You can't be serious. You're willing to _die_ to find out whether or not I secretly _do_ want to have sex with you?"

"Denny, I've come to the realization after nearly four years that there's only one thing…one _person_…I want. I don't see any reason to live life without you. Besides, I know for a _fact_ you love me enough to not let me die."

"You're certifiable. Get down from there."

Alan scooted back a fraction of an inch, his ass now hanging well over the wall. A firework went off not far above their heads, lower than it should have, startling both of them. Alan jerked and Denny, suddenly full of fear, darted forward and grabbed his hands.

"See?" Alan smiled, looking into his eyes. "You _do_ care."

"Of course I care, you idiot, now get the hell off that wall."

Alan jumped down and took in the sight of a none-too-thrilled Denny Crane. "I've angered you."

"You have."

"Well, I guess I'll be going then. I wouldn't have jumped, Denny. You should know the human sense of self-preservation is far too great for me to do that."

"On the contrary, I think your sense of self-preservation is nonexistent. There isn't a man alive who'd broach this subject with me without fearing for his life."

"Except me."

"Except you."

"And _I'm_ the only person you've invited onto this balcony since Crane, Poole and Schmidt moved to this building and you moved into this office."

"You are, and it took me three years to even ask _you_."

Alan moved forward, so close he could feel the heat from Denny's body. "But you don't want to have sex with me."

"No," Denny replied, swaying forward slightly. "I don't want to have sex with you."

Alan took another step forward. Their torsos were now touching. "You _really_ don't want to have sex with me."

Denny's eyes closed, chin rising. "No," he whispered.

Alan placed his hands on Denny's shoulders and put his nose right against his neck, inhaling deeply of the scent he knew so well. "You couldn't _bear_ to see me naked."

Denny's heart was pounding. "No, I don't want to see you naked."

Alan's tongue darted out, touching the soft skin on the side of Denny's neck, following by his lips lingering as he whispered, "And you don't want me to kiss you." He backed away and watched as Denny's eyes opened. He knew the look in them and held his breath.

"No," Denny said, his voice almost unheard amidst the sonic boomers above. "Don't kiss me." He licked his lips and closed his eyes. "_Please_ don't."

Alan leaned in, his own eyes closing, lips touching lips as he pressed their bodies together. His arms came around Denny's and after a few moments in which Denny made no move at all, suddenly he felt his hands on his hips, squeezing hard.

A small sound of desire came from Alan as Denny moaned, his mouth opening. Alan's tongue slipped inside, moving around Denny's, sucking it into his mouth, darting back in to roam around his teeth, the roof of his mouth. He was surprised when Denny nipped at his lower lip, then sucked it into his mouth. He melted as Denny took control, pinning Alan against the balcony wall as he deepened the kiss and ground his hips against Alan's.

The finale had begun. Bang after bang, explosion after explosion, brilliant blinding lights above them, all around them as Denny backed away and looked challengingly at his friend. His friend and soon-to-be-lover.

"You're a man who says what he means," Denny said, his voice thick with need.

"Yes."

"Then tell me what you want."

"You." Alan tried moving forward, but Denny held him in place.

"Be more specific."

"I want you…" Alan licked his lips. "I want you to fuck me."

Denny leaned forward and kissed him softly, then retreated. "I don't want to fuck you," he whispered, then leaned in for another kiss. "I have never wanted to fuck you."

Denny's eyes flashed and it had nothing to do with the final firework that shot off above them. He quickly removed his suit jacket and tie, tossing them aside. He watched as Alan did the same, then moved to swiftly unbutton Alan's shirt, which soon joined the other clothing items on the patio floor. Alan took his tee shirt off and watched as Denny removed _his_ shirt and tee shirt.

Alan's eyes widened. "You've been working out."

"You know I have," Denny said. "You're the one who's been at the gym with me."

"Yeah, but I've never seen you bare. You look pretty hot for an old guy."

"I've got a damn good chubby for an old guy," Denny replied.

"I'll be the judge of that," Alan retorted, dropping to his knees. He unbuckled Denny's belt, unbuttoned and unzipped his pants, and pulled them down to his ankles. The exact size of Denny's chubby was more than evident. "Now that," Alan said as he hiked Denny's boxers down his legs, "is a _true_ captain's log."

Denny chuckled, then groaned loudly as Alan's mouth engulfed his cock to the base. He felt him swallow convulsively and his hands moved to weave through Alan's hair. Denny knew in his last split second of mental clarity that this was the best blow job he'd ever been given, bar none, but then even the strains of the faraway band's final number couldn't reach his deaf ears as the sensations of exquisite pleasure bombarded his senses.

Alan bobbed, licked and sucked harder than he ever had before, holding Denny's hips in place with his hands as he lavished every trick he knew upon the straining cock in his mouth. Every noise Denny made, every grunt, every twitch and the feel of his hands gripping his hair so tightly only made him more eager to send Denny toppling over the edge into orgasmic oblivion.

It didn't take long. The band's music ended and once again the night was silent around them, but Denny began to see fireworks of his own, white lights exploding behind his closed eyelids as the sensation made him quiver, starting at his groin and radiating outwards, then convulsively shooting back to his cock. He cried out Alan's name, shooting come into the back of Alan's throat.

Hungrily, Alan swallowed every drop, finishing by licking off the head as Denny's cock slowly began to droop. Alan rose to his feet, carefully adjusting himself as his cock begged for attention. "You didn't need pills for _that_ bliss," he remarked, enraptured by the look of complete satisfaction in Denny's eyes.

"You _are_ my bliss, Alan."

"You don't mean that."

"In this case, I _do_." Denny looked around, thankful to find no prying eyes at the windows. "Get my clothes, we're going home."

"I'm a little…uncomfortable here, Denny," Alan said, gesturing down to his cock.

"I'll take care of that in the limo."

"Oo, kinky man. Sex in the back seat of a car," Alan teased as he picked up their clothes and started getting himself together.

Finally they were ready to go, Alan walking extraordinarily funny thanks to the extreme pressure of his cock against his pants. He hadn't bothered with the underwear. Easy access and all.

"So what do you think?" Alan asked as they navigated the corridors of Crane, Poole and Schmidt.

"I think I should've invited you to my balcony for fireworks three years ago."

"All that wasted time."

The elevator was standing open and they entered, Alan pushing the button for the ground floor. Suddenly Denny slammed the back of his hand onto the emergency stop button.

"What are you doing?" Alan asked, eyes wide, as Denny lowered himself to his knees in front of him.

"Taking care of your problem _now_." Denny jerked Alan's pants down to his knees. "Happy Fourth, Alan," he said as he took Alan's cock into his mouth.

Alan groaned, leaning back against the elevator wall. "And God bless America."


End file.
